Burden of Knowledge
by SWL-Ortiz
Summary: TR/HG Head Boy, Tom Riddle, has to deal with a girl who seems to have appeared out of nowhere, yet appears to know more about him, past and future, than anyone else. How will Hermione Granger deal with Riddle's interests? What does a simple Hufflepuff from a talented family have to do with all of this nonsense?
1. Burden

Sighing, a dusty-haired young man slouched away from the milky ball he had been staring into. His ordinarily calm brown eyes were troubled.

No matter how long he stared into the future, he seemed to be blocked by the image of a girl. No, she was definitely a woman. She had bushy brown hair, with strands of bronze the glinted in the sunlight. She looked like the personification of a warm, sunny day.

This woman wore a Hogwarts' uniform, but not in any fashion he had seen. Apollo could tell she had a hearty laugh, a rare thing in his time because all of the girls were focused on being model wives. She was tan, another unusual factor. Finally, Apollo saw her face. It was a breathtaking grin. She had warm facial features that could thaw the coldest soul. This woman had brown eyes that pierced Apollo with their intelligence. These eyes were not just brown. They were molten with their warmth. They swirled like chocolate with flecks of gold near the center. The sight made Apollo's breath hitch.

Apollo mourned his failed attempted to stare into the ball once again. Like every other time, he only saw this woman's face. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. His attempts to figure out this enigma puzzled everyone. This was difficult to do in a family of seers.

Apollo walked to get outside, away from his seemingly suffocating bedroom. He noticed with distaste that he had spent another day of wasted efforts trying to see anything else. The rest of his family was asleep. As seers themselves, they recognized the futility of trying to stop or interrupt someone who was attempting to divine the unknown.

Out in the open area behind his home, Apollo fancied this the only place he could find peace, well this and the library. Apollo was dressed in his lounging clothes, just some slacks and shirt that didn't need to be pressed. Lazily, he walked in the backyard of his modest home, kicking up dirt.

His family was quite wealthy, but with a large, diverse family of, shall we say, talents, it is best for everyone to be relatively close. Scarcely a major event in the Muggle or Wizarding Worlds had some member of his family not foretold. It was for that reason they choose to live in relative abandon. It was far too tempting for people in power to take advantage of his family's talents.

This day started off like any other for Apollo. He made his rounds greeting all of members of his family, extended and all. Each greeting usually returned by a prophecy of some sort, be it a command to not wear the color purple or an order to go change his socks. The exceptions were his younger cousins. They didn't have powers yet so their greetings were returned with unbridled enthusiasm to play a game. Most of the time, Apollo managed to navigate himself out of this duty.

Apollo was usually silent at meals. The adults would often talk to each other about what they had prophesized that day. Often, they were nothing major, the adoption of some animal or the score of a children's Quidditch game. When a major prophecy came about, they packaged it up and left it anonymously in front of the Ministry. The next day, at the same time, the Ministry would leave payment.

Apollo liked the simplicity of his life. He had very little stress and the comfortable bustle of his family shadowed his quiet nature. This would all be changing in precisely a month. He would be returning to Hogwarts for his seventh year. In two weeks, he would Floo to Diagon Alley and pick up all of his supplies for the school year.

To this day, Apollo was still surprised his parents allowed him to attend school. Many of his cousins would be homeschooled, as their parents were. Very few members of his family received a formal education because it had simply never been a priority. This does not mean that his family is dull. Everyone was actually quite witty and intelligent; it was just hard to tell from all of the lines of prophecy that spewed from his family's mouth.

Currently, Apollo was occupied with thoughts of his beloved school as he wandered. He loved his family dearly, but there was something wonderful about being able to talk to a peer and not worry if they are speaking in riddles. He was sorted into Hufflepuff. Despite their reputation, Apollo enjoyed his classmates. He had never met a more caring and compassionate group of people. Plus, it was great to get away from the general craziness that accompanied Ravenclaw study sessions, Griffindor pranks, or Slytherin whatever-it-is-they-do meetings.

Apollo was brought out of his musings by a bright light. Apollo thought he was imagining things. Roughly, he shook his head, but the light was still there, beckoning to him. Hesitantly, Apollo walked forward into the light.

Apollo sneezed from being in the focus of the bright white light.

"God bless you," a low baritone voice rumbled. "Or rather Bran bless you."

Apollo stared at a man who towered over him. He was at least six and a half feet tall, draped in black robes, emphasizing his height. Despite his imposing figure, this man had a smile on his face. He had unkempt dark hair and stubble on his face. His emerald green eyes glowed just a little bit too much o be natural.

"Excuse me, where are my manners." The strange man waved his hand and two chairs appeared. Apollo carefully sunk into his chair.

Ignoring Apollo's weariness, the man continued in a jovial tone, "Hello there Apollo. Oh, don't be surprised I know your name. You are a very special boy, born into a family of seers in fact."

"How do you know about me?" Apollo was still relatively unknown outside his family. He never had any important prophecies.

"Oh please boy. I know everything about you. Just who do you think gave your family its little gifts?" Continuing despite Apollo's dumbstruck face, "Any who, I need you to do something for me."

Apollo blinked, clearly processing all of this information. "Um, how could I help you sir?" Apollo asked, as politely as his mother raised him.

"Well, I can't say much right now, you know the future and all, but you, my boy, are going to be very important later," Bran replied.

"Yes, sir, forgive me, but I do not understand what you want from me."

"I want you to live your life. Meet a girl, go on a date, or skip your classes. I don't really care. Your family has helped me in the past, so I thought I could return the favor in a small way. Remember that girl?"

"Yes sir."

"Stay away from her."

"Sir?"

"You heard me. There will be a time for you to help her. That time is not now. Just be patient and go on with your life."

Puzzled, Apollo asked, "Sir, if I won't become important until later, then why did you visit me?"

Bran got up and smiled down at Apollo, "Isn't it obvious? So you have something wonderful to tell your family at breakfast." Bran reached out to touch Apollo on the arm but then considered something.

"Wait, I supposed you need something ominous to say. Hmm… Oh start with this: _This is the story of Hermione Granger and this is how it ends, at least for the present_. I like that. Very regal sounding. Oh, I almost forgot, you need a prophecy, right? How about a little something like this:

 _The god of justice will foretell sorrow,_

 _The knight of the lion will revive the lady._

 _The emperor of snakes will court the princess of war_

 _And he will revive the world._

 _But no one can foretell the lady's actions._ "

"Yes, sir. I will remember it," Apollo said uncertainly. His instincts told him to trust this man, but his common sense told him otherwise.

Bran checked an invisible watch on his wrist. "Oh, would you look at the time! I simply must be going. Alright, so remember what I said and you'll wake up in your bed tomorrow morning, okay?"

Without waiting for an answer, Bran said "Lovely." He touched Apollo on the arm and Apollo's world went dark.


	2. Arrival

Hermione heard a sharp crack as she hit the floor. From the pain radiating from her ankle, it was broken.

With her senses still primed for war, Hermione immediately starting blocking out the pain and looking around at her surroundings. Immediately, she recognized the Forbidden Forrest, home to many of her adventures with Ron and Harry. For some reason it seemed younger, like it had not finished developing the darky, mysterious atmosphere she remembered so well.

Next, she assessed her person. Her ankle was starting to swell. Aside from that, she didn't have any injuries. She was in some workout clothes she wore to bed; always ready to run from Snatchers.

They didn't amount to much, just a tank top and some rather short bottoms. Hermione shivered, feeling the cool, crisp wind pierce her flesh.

Thank goodness she had her wand! Even whilst sleeping, during the time of war, Hermione was never unprepared.

Quickly, she cast a heating charm on herself and cooling charm on her ankle. It would help take down the swelling. She couldn't begin to heal it yet because she would feel far too much pain to be able to hold the spell.

Hermione struggled to her feel. She found a branch that she could use as a makeshift crutch. Holding onto it like it was her lifeline, she stumbled and staggered to the only place she could find, Hogwarts, home.

* * *

Head Boy Tom Riddle was not pleased. This was the second pair of snogging couples he had sent to bed, after subtracting quite a few House points. The only redeeming factor was that he didn't have to patrol with that irritating Ravenclaw prefect. He had slipped a little something into the other boy's drink and feigned ignorance. Oh, you feel sick, of course I could patrol by myself, why don't you get a potion?

Tom smirked, remembering how gullible the Ravenclaw was, just like the rest of them, a flock of sheep. As Tom mindlessly wandered the corridors, he considered his future. What was he to do with his followers, his Knights of Windsor?

He had just started the school year, but already he felt restless. If Hogwarts wasn't his only home and the holding place of the most wonderful books, he would not have come back.

Those filthy mudbloods infected his beloved school. His hand twitched towards his wand as rage surged through him. He wanted to kill them all, but it would be a waste to spill that much, regrettably, magical blood. What to do?

Slavery was always an option he was favorable of. They could be breed like horses to insure more magical offspring. Then again, genocide isn't a bad option, it would just take time and power over the country he did not have. Tom frowned at the thought of working up the Ministry, waiting to be Minister, before implementing his plans. What to do?

Tom grew bored of roaming the hallways, so he went down to the kitchens. A house elf quickly came to greet him.

"A hot chocolate and cake," he ordered.

"Yes, sir." The elf bowed as it went to fetch his food.

Tom actually liked the elves. They were perfectly subservient and obedient to a fault.

While Tom waited, he saw a flash of green, not unlike an _Avada Kedavra_. He would know, for he had already cast quite a few.

His curiosity got the better of him. Ignoring the elf that offered him food, Tom swept past, Slytherin robes brushing the floor. Walking with a purpose, he made his way through Hogwarts and out towards the Forbidden Forrest to inspect the strange light.

* * *

Hermione panted through the pain that travelled up her leg and assaulted her brain. Every so often, she would stop and cast another spell that would help with the pain. They never lasted for long and the pain would come back, stronger than ever as if it was seeking vengeance.

Ever the survivor, Hermione pushed the pain from her mind and focused on what occurred before she found herself on the floor of the Forbidden Forrest. Hermione remembered settling down for bed in the tent that she shared with Harry and Ron, well it was just Harry now.

Hermione blinked away tears. One of her best friends wouldn't even listen to her before he left. Hermione realized that she never got to say goodbye. Hermione felt regret and guilt deep in her heart that she knew would never go away.

Shaking her head like a dog, or rather like Sirius, she thought, but then more guilt came to her. With a scowl, Hermione realized she had literally no clue how she came to be back at Hogwarts. If there was one thing Hermione despised, it was being in the dark.

Hermione continued her trek towards Hogwarts. For some reason, it barely seemed to be any closer than when she had started.

With more determination, Hermione strongly pushed through the think undergrowth of the Forrest. She would get to Hogwarts if it killed her, Hermione thought with an unreasonable amount of stubbornness.

Finally gaining some momentum, Hermione fell into a rhythm. _Step, pain, breathe, step, pain, breath, step, pain, breath._ Hermione ignored anything that wasn't those three actions. So focused on her actions, Hermione didn't realize until she ran smack into a broad chest that someone was in front of her.

* * *

After he raced down to the Forbidden Forrest, Tom hesitated. It wouldn't do for his perfect Head Boy image to be tarnished by this excursion. Tom smirked and went towards where he saw the light, trusting his silver tongue to get him out of any trouble.

Tom pulled his robes more snuggly around his body and cast a slight warming charm on himself then began his walk. He didn't know what he was looking for. After seven years of being the unchallenged, most intelligent student, it was refreshing to find something new. That last time he felt this excited, he asked Slughorn about Horcruxes.

After a quarter of an hour of walking, Tom began to have doubts about the light he saw. It could have been nothing. Tom frowned at the thought of wasting his time.

With a gusty sigh, Tom looked at the area around him. It was nothing special, just another part of the Forrest. Tom looked down and saw his left foot was firmly planted in sticky mud.

With a face of disgust, Tom lifted his foot and shook out the mud. Just as he went to grab his wand for a quick _Scorgify_ , a person ran head first into his chest. Quickly reacting, he grabbed the body and stopped it so they both didn't fall.

Tom inspected the person, the woman, who ran into him. She was unbelievable dirty and Tom curled his lip in distaste. She had two makeshift crutches to facilitate her movement.

She dressed in rags that were as disgraceful as they were dirty. She was scantily clad in small gray shorts and a sleeveless shirt. To Tom, no one in his or her right mind would be dressed in such a manner, especially as winter is approaching.

Regardless, Tom was still a boy with hormones and he couldn't but stare at the bare skin this woman showed off. Quickly realizing that he held to woman close to his body, Tom shoved her back and reigned in his emotions.

* * *

Hermione was dazed by her impact. For several long seconds, all she could process was that she was no longer moving.

Hermione realized that a rather handsome young man had stopped her process. She quickly assessed him and determined he was not a threat, at least at the moment.

The man was dressed in well fitting Hogwarts robes that identified him as a Slytherin and Head Boy. Hermione figured that Head Boy and Girl would be given to Slytherins, because of the Death Eaters who run Hogwarts. It was curious, she thought, that she had never seen this boy before and his robes seemed, not ugly, but rather dated.

The boy had pale skin, as if he spent far too much time inside, and jet-black hair that shined from the slight gel he used to smooth it. Aside from the dirt Hermione had gotten on him when they collided, he looked impeccable put together, a strange sight in the Forbidden Forrest at night.

After a little bit, Hermione recovered enough to wandlessly and nonverbally cast another cooling charm on her ankle and heating charm on her body. "Uh, hello," Hermione started pleasantly, "Would you happen to be able to take me to Hogwarts?"

Hermione realized her polite manner was out of place, but she couldn't think of any other way to start the conversation. Before Hermione could reconsider her words too much, the boy answered.

"Of course. Just let me give you this." He shrugged off his outer robes. "And I can take a look at whatever it was you injured."

Hermione cautiously accepted the robe and put it on. She relaxed as the warmth encompassed her body. She gingerly sat down on an exposed root and braced her back against a tree.

* * *

This girl amused Tom. Of course he offered his outer robes and to heal her, what type of Head Boy wouldn't offer aid? However, when she sat down and let his clean robes brush the floor, he had to fight to keep the scowl off his face.

Tom knelt down by the injured girl as she threw her crutches to the side and wrapped herself in his robes. Tom pulled his wand out from his side, unknown to him Hermione did the same, spells at the ready, just in case.

Tom grimaced when he saw her ankle. It was solidly covered with patches of black and blue. He delicately touched it, to inspect the internal damage. His eyes widened in surprise; the bone was not completely broken, but rather out of alignment. Tom could tell that if any weight were put on it, then a full break would occur. Those are difficult to heal, even with magic.

Tom quickly explained what he had found. "I'm going to have to reset it. I can use a spell and make you unconscious to spare you the pain."

The woman resolutely responded, "No, I appreciate your concern, but I will be fine." She began searching in the area around her, probably to find something to use as a gag.

Tom was surprised to say the least. All of the girls at Hogwarts would stub their toe and run to the medical ward, screaming bloody murder. Even for the slightest injuries, they would insist on a pain-killing potion and what-not.

When the woman had prepared herself, Tom got his wand at the ready. He looked up for confirmation and received a firm nod. Quickly casting the spell, Tom used his left hand to push the bones back into alignment.

* * *

Hermione screamed as the pain of a _Crucio_ radiated from her ankle. She screamed herself hoarse through her gag. She whimpered like a trapped animal in excruciating pain. Then, in an instant, it was over. A cooling sensation spread and Hermione panted, trying to get her breath back.

She spit out her gag, little good it did. Her voice broke from her yelling, but regardless she thanked her savior. "Thank you very much. I apologize I never asked for your name, how rude of me."

The pale young man looked over at her and accepted her thanks. "It was no trouble. My name is Tom Riddle. I am the Head Boy at Hogwarts."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. Her entire body froze. Surely the universe was playing a joke on her. Her mind shut down, refusing to process this information.

"Oh fuck," Hermione said before she passed out.

* * *

Tom quirked an eyebrow at the colorful language of the woman before him. Oh yes, she intrigued him. It was too bad someone had to be awake to use Legilimency.

All of the girls he knew would be scandalized to hear that word spoken, much less use it themselves. All of this, plus her mysterious appearance into the Forbidden Forrest, made for one interesting woman.

Tom smirked as he lifted the unconscious woman into his arms. It had been such a long time since he had to use most of his intellect. He would look forward to unraveling this mystery woman.

Tom moved swiftly through the Forbidden Forrest and made it to the medical ward in record time. Adopting the proper façade of concern, he feed Madame Hopkins a story about hearing a cry in the Forrest and retrieving this girl. He was sorry that it is late, even for prefects, but he just had to help.

Flashing her a winning smile, Madame Hopkins melted and believed his story like anyone else would. Smirking, Tom left and began to walk back to his dorm, vacant due to the _unfortunate_ incident with the previous Head Girl.

As he was about to whisper the password a voice called out, "Mister Riddle, a moment please!"

Tom quickly wiped the scowl off his face and greeted his Transfigurations professor with a smile. "Hello Professor Dumbledore. Is there something I can do for you?"

"I only wanted to inquire why you are still up so late. It is far past the time for rounds to be made," Dumbledore replied with a twinkle in his eye that Tom longed to put out.

Tom feed Dumbledore the same story he told Madame Hopkins. Dumbledore, like any other time Tom spoke, looked somewhat suspicious and uneasy.

"Sir, as you said, it is getting late. Might I retire?" Tom asked, irritated with the old man.

"Of course Tom. Have a good night." Dumbledore spun on his heel and walked back towards his office.

Finally Tom entered his dorm and quickly went to his room. Throwing his shirt in a corner, the type of mess he would never allow himself. However, Tom went to bed with his thoughts curiously full of brown eyes and hair that stared back in his minds eye with hidden knowledge held in their orbs.

Tom Riddle wasn't sure who this new woman was, but he would be damned if he didn't figure it out.


	3. Who are you Hermione Granger?

**Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews, favorites, and follows! Please feel free to leave me comments on my writing style, good and bad. This is my first time writing in something other than first person. I enjoy the challenge. Please leave your thoughts.**

 **Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe belongs to JK Rowling. I merely mess around in her world.**

* * *

Hermione woke with a start, breaking herself away form the nightmares that plagued her sleep. Her hand immediately gravitated towards her wand, a relic of wartime habits. Hermione realized she was alone; also that it was in the middle of the night, by the moonlight trickling through the window.

Hermione slumped and let her head fall back onto her pillow. She couldn't believe that she was in the medical ward. She feared that this was just a dream, if it was then she never wanted to wake up.

She let out a gusty sigh, a wince of pain confirmed that this was her reality, not her illusion.

Hermione shifted her body a little bit and thought about the scenes that stole her restfulness. Many nights, Hermione relived the torture Bellatrix Lestrange had inflicted upon her. To this day, glamour charms were only so effective is masking the scratchy word _Mudblood_.

Other nights, it was as if Hermione could divine the future, something she did not believe. This did not stop the nightmares from scaring her. She saw Ron, her secret crush, dead at her feet and Harry, her best friend, reaching out to her with a look of pure panic and terror on her face.

The dream that haunted her this night had never before made an appearance, to her knowledge. In this dream, there was no Harry or Ron. Hermione was by herself. She looked all around and only saw darkness with a misty floor. The intense black of her surroundings frightened her and for the first time she understood why people felt claustrophobia.

Hermione, in her dream, made a full rotation. At the end of it, she saw her nemesis, Voldemort standing opposite her. His face seemed to flicker between one of angelic beauty and on that was the pale snake like body that had terrorized her childhood.

Quickly, Hermione drew her wand. She aimed it at Voldmort's heart, the Killing Curse n her lips. With a disinterested flick of his hand, her wand flew off in the distance. Hermione started casting wandless, nonverbal magic that she was grateful she had learned.

It was all to no avail. Her spells had no power on him. It was the thing she feared the most, being weak, unable to protect herself or her friends. Tears began to well up in Hermione's eyes. She was devastated. Voldemort let out a cruel, cold laugh, if it could be called that at her distress.

Hermione took a deep breath, calming herself for the inevitable. If she would die now, she would not give Voldemort the pleasure of seeing her break.

Voldemort looked curiously at her, as if she were a new species he had never seen. He raised his wand and wordlessly a bright green light shoot out of the end.

Hermione's perception of time seemed to slow. It seemed to take ages for the curse to hit its mark. In fact, she swayed forward, just wanting her struggle to be over.

Finally, it hit. While being shockingly anticlimactic, Hermione thought, her death came not as slow as she as had thought. Hermione remembered falling backwards and the last thing she saw was not the faces of her friends and family, or even blackness. Rather it was the face of the Dark Lord, with a flicker of emotion Hermione couldn't identify.

As Hermione fell back, she woke with a start and found herself sitting wide awake in the medical ward.

Hermione roused herself from her thoughts and inspected the medical ward around her once again. There were as many bed as in her time, but they looked unusually tidy, as if they were not used often. Hermione supposed with the largest threat being Gellert Grindlewald, who is supposed to be in in Eastern Europe at this time.

Hermione thought back to her conversation with the future Dark Lord. She suppressed a shudder. Hermione didn't reveal anything about herself, so she could make up any story she needed to.

Hermione felt a migraine rumbling in her skull. She reached behind her and fluffed her pillow a bit. Hermione threw herself back and securely gripped her wand under her covers. She covered her wand and rested her other hand on top, over the covers. It looked like she was resting peacefully, but Hermione knew the value of being prepared, as much as one could while being asleep.

With disturbing thoughts of dying without her friends in the forefront of her mind, Hermione reluctantly slipped back into a restless sleep.

Hermione was awoken by the sounds of soft footsteps approaching. Ever cautious, Hermione kept her breathing deep and steady, but she peaked through her eyelashes. A robust, kindly looking woman made her way over to Hermione, softly humming. Hermione relaxed, realizing this was Madame Hopkins, the current medi-witch.

Madame Hopkins gently roused Hermione from her slumber. Hermione, keeping up pretenses, blinked lazily a few times.

"Hello, ma'am," Hermione greeted in a rough, sleep-clogged voice.

Madame Hopkins smiled gently. "Hello, sweetie. Come on, can you sit up for me?" Hermione struggled into a sitting position with the aid of Madame Hopkins.

Madame Hopkins offered Hermione a cup of grotesque green liquid. Hermione recoiled from the sight and smell of the drink.

"It's a Pepper Up potion along with some things to help your body heal and a body warming potion. You're still so cold, dear," Madame Hopkins said with a look of concern on her face. "Plus, if you drink this, I'll give you breakfast in bed, just this once."

Hermione's stomach grumbled eagerly at the thought of food. Hermione plugged her nose and inspected Madame Hopkins and she forced the potion down her throat.

Madame Hopkins was a small, plump woman with thick curves. She had curly hair that bounced uncontrollably as she busied her self with tidying the medical supplies. She was very tan; she probably gets her own herbs from the greenhouse, and had a lovely smile that lit up her whole face. Madame Hopkins had warm brown eyes that seemed to be melted chocolate.

Hermione set down her cup with a thunk. Madame Hopkins turned towards Hermione with a smile. "Oh, thank you so much. I know that didn't taste good. Now, if you please, might I have your name and what you would like for breakfast?"

Hermione considered for a moment. She hadn't yet come up with a solid enough backstory and her stomach was rebelling because it hadn't had a proper meal in very long. There were more important things when one was running from the Dark Lord.

"My name is Hermione. May I please have some eggs, bacon, oatmeal, and hashbrowns?" She replied pleasantly. Hermione always minded her manners; one of the things her mother was strict about. It seemed that in this time, whenever it precisely was, polite was the way to go.

"Of course you can, Hermione. Just give me a moment." Madame Hopkins turned and walked with a speed that was shocking given her small stature. Madame Hopkins' heels clicked loudly on the floor.

As she left the medical ward, she almost ran into Albus Dumbledore. Hermione smiled gladly at her old Headmaster, one good thing to come out of this disaster. Dumbledore seemed puzzled as her approached her.

He sat at the chair that was to Hermione's right. Hermione wordlessly cast silencing spells around them.

Dumbledore quirked an eyebrow. "I must say I am intrigued. Wandless magic and you appear to know who I am. I find myself at a disadvantage, might I know who you are?" Dumbledore finished with a twinkle in his eye.

"Hea- Sir, my name is Hermione Granger." Dumbledore appeared to notice her slip. "I'm, uh…" Hermione wasn't sure how to continue.

"Well, Hermione, I know you are not a student here, however, you appeared inside Hogwarts. We have wards against this."

"Professor, I do not know how I got here. You are wrong. I am a student here, just at the wrong time." Hermione cringed at the ridiculous claim. Dumbledore merely nodded and looked thoughtful.

"Assuming you are not lying, how do I know you are not a spy for Grindlewald? I'm sorry to be so crude, but we are at war." Dumbledore looked vaguely regretful.

Hermione understood she would have to resort to drastic measures. "Professor, I know you are a stunning Legilimecist. You taught be how to protect my mind. Sir, I will open my mind to you and show you certain memories. It's the only proof I can give."

Dumbledore nodded. Hermione made fierce eye contact with Dumbledore. She allowed him in the front of her mind. She couldn't allow anyone, even Dumbledore, to have so much knowledge of the future.

As the memories played out in her mind, Hermione recited Dumbledore's words back at him. "You will find that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it."

Dumbledore skillfully retreated from her mind. He sat back in his chair, deep in thought. "Hermione, we have quite a situation on our hands." The door opening interrupted Dumbledore's speech.

Much more cheerfully he continued, "Well, Miss Hermione, I trust that we can meet in my office. It has been lovely chatting with you. We can discuss your situation and your options." Dumbledore excused himself and greeted Madame Hopkins on his way out.

Madame Hopkins placed a large tray on my lap. The plates held heaping mounds of food. Hermione's mouth watered, especially at the sight and smell of the sizzling bacon.

Hermione ate as rapidly as she could while having her manners. While she ate, Hermione and Madame Hopkins chatted.

"Professor Dumbledore, wonderful man, isn't he?" Hermione nodded her agreement. "We are very lucky to have him as our Transfigurations professor."

"Indeed. From what he was saying, Hogwarts has many talented staff members, including yourself, Madame Hopkins."

"Oh Hermione, you flatter me."

"No," Hermione insisted. "I had several dislodged bones and bone deep tissue damage. It's amazing that I'm even awake right now."

"You're welcome Hermione," Madame Hopkins patted Hermione's knee affectionately. When Madame Hopkins saw that Hermione was finishing her breakfast, she asked, "Since you feel so much better, what would you like to do today?"

Hermione swung her body to the edge of her bed. She gingerly stood and stretched. "I would like to go meet Professor Dumbledore and continue our chat, if that is ok with you?"

"Of course, you have been a wonderful patient." Madame Hopkins smiled kindly again.

Madame Hopkins went to her chambers and retrieved a plain black dress for Hermione. Hermione slipped it on and it fell to halfway down her thigh. Hermione washed her face and brushed her teeth. She brushed her large mane of bushy hair. It was tamer than it had been in her childhood, but Hermione still considered it to be a hassle.

After slipping on a pair of simple black shoes, Hermione began to walk out of the medical ward.

"Oh, Hermione," Madame Hopkins stopped her, "Let me get you a guide. Our Head Boy, Tom Riddle, should have a free period."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. "Oh, no thank you. I wouldn't want to intrude. Plus, I would like the opportunity to explore Hogwarts. I have read so much about it."

Madame Hopkins smiled easily. "Okay, dear, go on then. Have fun."

Hermione waved good-bye and started to wonder around Hogwarts. Even in this time of war, it was more vibrant and youthful than how she remembered. Hermione couldn't wipe the grin off her face and she walked through the corridors she thought she would have never see again, after she ran off with Harry and Ron.

* * *

Tom Riddle was in a foul mood. He brought in that woman who was on the verge of death yesterday. It was the first time he couldn't get rest at night. Never before had he not had complete control of his thoughts.

Tom ran a hand through his hair this morning. He quickly did his ordinary morning routine in the privacy of his Head dorm. The Head Girl had mysteriously disappeared and no one had stepped up to fill the position.

Tom left his room after ensuring his image was in its usual state of perfection. His smooth black hair was parted to the side above his alabaster forehead. His uniform fell neatly on his body, not a wrinkle in place. He added his robes and straightened his Head Boy badge before heading to breakfast.

As he began his walk to the Great Hall, Tom had a thought. Swiftly, Tom changed his path to take himself by the medical wing. The image of that woman was still vivid in his mind.

He silently opened the door. To his displeasure, the woman was lying on her bed, still asleep. Tom quickly left before Madame Hopkins could strike up another tedious conversation.

Tom walked predatorily towards the Great Hall. He sat, as usual, in the middle of his Knights. They, luckily, sensed his dark mood and did not pester him with their pointless chatter.

Tom went to his first class. It was another uneventful day. They went over things he had studied last year. It was his seventh year and it was so easy, the work was laughable.

He put up his usual act of attentative student. He raised his hand the fastest and always had flawless answers. He earned most of Slytherin's House points while his classmates struggled with the concept.

Tom rushed out of his class. Next, he had a free period. He supposed he would go to the library, even though in order to get there he would have to walk by Dumbledore's office. How he deplored the professor!

However, their was no denying Dumbledore was a very powerful wizard. For some reason, Dumbledore was the only person who didn't succumb to Tom's plans.

Tom decided it was worth the risk and walked briskly to the library.

Turning a corner to reach the library, a female body ran straight into Tom. Tom wiped the look of disgust off his face when he saw it was his mystery woman from the night before.

As he helped her up, Tom said, "Well, this seems to be a regular occurrence."

The woman stiffly got to her feet, refusing his assistance. As she dusted herself off, Tom inspected her and was pleased with what she found. Her dress was form fitting, hinting at curves, and a few inches shorter than the skirts worn by other girls.

Most interesting were her eyes. They stared at him with shock and something that passed too quickly to be identified. Tom was used to making girls flustered, but this one seems to be the exception.

Tom stuck out his hand, "I don't know if you remember, but I aided you in the Forbidden Forrest. I'm Tom Riddle."

She stared at his hand as if shaking hands were a foreign gesture. Eventually she grasped it, saying, "Of course. Thank you Tom. My name is Hermione."

Tom firmly grasped her smooth hand. Then he turned it and leaned down to brush a kiss across her knuckles. "My pleasure, Hermione," he purred. This trick always had girls become putty in his hands, but Hermione appeared to be unfazed, put off even. How curious.

Hermione pulled her hand back. "Tom, it was lovely meeting you again. If you would excuse me, I have a meeting with Professor Dumbledore."

Tom's cheek twitched as he controlled his expression. Before he could get out a reply, Hermione breezed by him, leaving a citrus scent in her wake. Tom's eyebrows raised; she had effectively dismissed him.

Tom turned on his heel as he smirked. Cracking the enigma of Hermione had just become his new task. Tom always succeeded at what he set his mind to.

* * *

Hermione couldn't believe she just survived another encounter with Riddle. She resolutely ignored how she reacted when he kissed her hand, like a proper gentleman. After all, talented witch she was, Hermione was still a warm-blooded girl. You would have to be blind and dead to not notice Riddle's ridiculously good looks.

Hermione shook her head like a dog. Nervously, she stood outside Dumbledore's office. Her entire existence in this time depended on if Dumbledore could help her or send her back. After all, she had a war to fight.

Hermione set her shoulders and confidently stepped into Dumbledore's office. He was waiting at one of two chairs in front of his desk.

Blue eyes piercing straight to her soul, Dumbledore demanded, "Who are you Hermione Granger?"


	4. New Beginning

**Author's Note: Thank you for the comments, follows, and favorites. Please tell me where you think the story is going and your thoughts about my writing. Is my updating pace good?**

 **Dumbledore is going to seem a little out of cannon for part of this chapter.**

 **Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe belongs to JK Rowling.**

* * *

Hermione was surprised by Dumbledore's abrupt start to the conversation. Quickly, and wordlessly, she cast silencing charms and other spells to ensure privacy.

Hermione swiftly took a seat opposite to Dumbledore. "With all due respect, sir, I don't know who I am." She fidgeted nervously as Dumbledore's bright eyes studied her.

Reclining back, he responded, "I see. Well, Hermione, I spent a great deal of time thinking since our last visit. I have come to the conclusion that you must be telling the truth. The amount of skill and finesse to implant a memory of that detail, with my older self in it no less, would be something no witch or wizard is able of. This leads me to believe that you are what you say, a time traveler."

Hermione let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, sir. Do you have any idea what I am doing here? The implications alone could cause catastrophes. One theory states that my mere existence here could change my past, your future. Another says that my being her is past of the past and nothing I do can change it. A third idea, novel at best, says that I will stop existing, either in this time or my past," Hermione rambled.

Dumbledore held up a hand, silencing Hermione's frantic train of thought. "I do believe that I could offer some insight into your circumstance. But first, might I offer you some tea?" Dumbledore waved his hand towards a pair of cups and they started to prepare themselves.

"Yes, sir. Two cubes of sugar please." Hermione accepted her cup. Even when he was younger, Dumbledore seemed to retain his idiosyncrasies. Hermione blew gently on it and sipped.

It was delicious. She could feel the warmth seep into her body. For the first time in a long time, Hermione felt safe, content. Dumbledore had his hand clasped on his lap, tea resting on his leg.

Hermione set her now empty cup on the table in front of her.

"What is your name?" Dumbledore asked.

"Hermione Jean Granger. Why are you asking? I already told you."

"Miss Granger, why are you here?"

"Professor, I told you that. I don't know"

"What is your date of birth?" Dumbledore leaned in an inquiring fashion.

"September 19th, 1979," Hermione blurted out again.

"What do you know about me?"

"You are Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. You were a Transfigurations professor and went on to become Headmaster at Hogwarts. You have the Order of Merlin, First Class. You are a half-blood. You have a brother, Aberforth, and a sister, Ariana. In a three-way fight between yourself, your brother, and Grindlewald, she was killed. You don't know who did it, but her death made you change and her corpse is your Boggart-" Hermione slammed her hand on her mouth to cutoff the flow of words.

"Professor! Did you drug me?" Hermione was indignant.

"A slightly diluted form of Veritaserum. How much of this information was supplied by Gellert?"

"None, you told me this all yourself." Hermione struggled to stand, but she found her limbs locked.

"How are you lying while under the effect of Veritaserum?"

"I'm not lying!" Well, maybe she was a little bit. Hermione, Harry, and Ron had constantly taken small doses of the truth serum to gain resistance. This and the fact that the Veritaserum in the future is much stringer meant that Hermione had a little control of her thoughts, but not much.

Dumbledore took a long, considering glance at the young woman who sat opposite him. "Very well, I believe you. I apologize for the deception, but I felt that caution was needed in this situation."

"Professor, there was a time when I sought your opinion above all others. I let you into my min to prove my trust, even thought what you could have seen would change history. Then you insult me by drugging me. So, Professor, because of the man you once were, I will hear you out this one time. Until a time, such that, I can pardon your actions, do not call on me again."

Dumbledore inclined his head, knowing nothing he said know would make a difference.

"I apologize, and I understand your point. You came here, now, to Hogwarts because of a spell I cast. It was extremely temperamental, elemental magic. It was a message, if you will, calling out for help. It is said that whatever appears next it the best thing that can help the user's situation. For some reason, you were sent."

"Well, Professor," Hermione scoffed, "I am known as the smartest witch of my age. My score are better than yours when you came here. You trained me yourself. I can only think of three wizards who are more powerful than myself, your future self, my Transfiguration professor, and a Dark wizard. Tell me, what type of help did you specifically ask for?"

"I asked for assistance to fight the Dark Lord."

Hermione paled. "Oh dear. We have a situation. The Dark Lord you intended to get help for is not a threat, not compared to my Dark Lord. You can defeat Grindlewald, but you are too afraid. I can't help you. I have a mission of much greater import."

Dumbledore sneered. "What could be more important than the current Dark Lord?"

"The future one. He is going to systematically wipe out the muggleborns and then take over the Muggle world, ruling them like slaves. Forgive me if your problems seem to pale in comparison to mine," Hermione finished with finality.

Hermione sat back and crossed her legs, sending Dumbledore a fierce glare. "Very well Miss Granger. I will take your advice to heart." Hermione simply nodded.

"Now, we have the issue of explaining your presence. You said you were a student during your time?"

"Yes, I was a seventh year and Head Girl, sorted into Gryffindor."

"I see. I will draw up some records. What classes should you take?"

Hermione relaxed, academics were well within her comfort zone. "NEWT level Arithmancy, Potions, Astronomy, Charms, Double Transfigurations, and Double Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Dumbledore raised his eyes at the list of intensive classes. "Well, the only other student with a schedule like that is our Head Boy-"

"Tom Riddle," Hermione finished bitterly.

Dumbledore waved his had and a quill began to write up her schedule. "Now, there is the more tricky matter of your identity."

"Yes. I have given this some thought. I am from Germany. Grindlewald invaded and massacred my town. I was homeschooled by my parents who made sure I left."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, but what about your name and other things. I'm sorry but you cannot pass as a pureblood, they all grew up together from birth."

"I will be a half-blood." Hermione scratched her forearm as phantom pain shoot through her. "It is safer that way. My name will be…"

"How about Hermione Dawkins?"

"No, too girly. Hmm, I like the sound of Hermione Laird. Short, nice, to the point."

"Then it's been decided. Hermione Laird, welcome to Hogwarts." Dumbledore stood, handed me my class schedule and regally bowed his head.

"Hermione, I sincerely apologize for my actions. I will always be available for help, should you need it."

"Thank you for my schedule," Hermione said, resolutely ignoring his apology.

Hermione began to walk off. Dumbledore called out, "Please spend tonight in the medical ward. You will be sorted tomorrow during breakfast."

Hermione sent a "Thank you, sir," behind her but otherwise kept up her determined stride.

* * *

Hermione went where she went if she ever had free time, the library. Since classes were going on, the library was practically deserted.

Hermione took her time searching through the tomes that held little bits of her childhood. She remembered which ones she used for certain projects and essay. After a bit more reminiscing, Hermione began her task: looking for a book with the theory of time travel to see if she could get back home, her friends were in the midst of a war without her!

Hermione gathered her books, balancing them with practiced skill. She went to the windowsill that overlooked the lake, her favorite place for leisure reading. She read until the Sun went down and for a while beyond.

Her curiosity far from sated, Hermione made a pass by the kitchens and politely asked for food. The elves ran around banging their heads are her manners. Unfortunately, Hermione thought, her plans for SPEW would have to wait for a later generation.

Hermione made her way back to the medical ward. She chatted with Madame Hopkins for a while. Hermione slipped on her pajamas.

She lay down with trepidation. She couldn't tell if she was nervous for her Sorting or if she was worried about another nightmare. They made become far more vivid in the short while she had been in this new time.

Hermione gathered her Gryffindor courage and steeled herself. Resolutely, Hermione put her head back on her pillow. As an afterthought, Hermione grabbed her wand and held it in a loose grip. With that, Hermione lost herself to the deep abyss of sleep.


	5. Hermione's First Day

**Author's Note: Thank you for the follows, favorites, and reviews. Please let me know anything you think I am doing well on or I could improve.**

 **Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe belongs to JK Rowling.**

* * *

Tom Riddle stalked from his Head dorm looking perfectly put together, as always. With one last glance at a mirror, Tom swept out of his dorm, robes billowing behind him.

Everything was so boring. His classes were laughable simple and none of his Knights had anything to report. The year had been dreadfully dull. If anything, Tom supposed he could torture another mudblood. All he had to do was sit through the breakfast assembly Headmaster Dippet mandated.

Tom disinterestedly stirred his tasteless oatmeal. He was beginning to work through the finer details of the future torture that his followers were too dull to think through.

Tom's thoughts were interrupted by the scratchy irritance that was the voice of Headmaster Dippet. Like the perfect Head Boy image Tom portrayed, he turned his attention to the man.

After clearing his throat, Dippet started, "First off, the usual announcements. Stay out of the Forbidden Forrest." Tom could have sworn Dippet's eyes flashed towards himself. "Also, remember to serve your detentions, failure to do so will result in harsher penalties."

Dippet turned to his side and motioned towards a woman. Tom's interest was perked when he recognized the woman he saved in the Forrest. She stepped forward. She stood in a soldier-esque manner. Her feet were planted shoulder width apart and he hands were clasped neatly in front of her body.

Tom, priding himself on his ability to read people, saw through her façade. Her eyes scanned the Great Hall in an assessing manner, as if she was preparing for a battle. Her hands were clasped, but her thumbs twiddled, betraying her nervousness.

Dippet introduced her. "Everyone, give a warm welcome to Hermione Laird. She has come to Hogwarts after her town was devastated in a battle against the Dark Lord. Please, treat her kindly. Now, Miss Laird will be Sorted."

Hermione, Tom thought with a smirk, calmly sat on the stool usually reserved for first years. Her back was straight and her face went stoic. The old wheezing Sorting Hat was placed in her head. After almost five minutes, the Hat shouted "Slytherin!"

Applause ran out from the Slytherin table. Tom joined in and inspected his new housemate. She seemed to pale, but looked resigned at what the Hat called out.

Hermione stood. Once more, Dippet spoke, "One last announcement before classes. Miss Laird is an expletory student with flawless scores. I have observed her strength of character in the short amount of time we have talked. It is for these reasons that I would like to appoint Miss Laird to fill the capacity of Head Girl."

The roar from Slytherin House was deafening. It is very rare to have both Head Boy and Girl to be in the same house.

"With that," Dippet concluded, "breakfast is over. Please go immediately to your first class of the day."

Everyone began to filter out of the Great Hall, but Tom stayed behind. He had the prefect excuse of getting to know his fellow Head and showing her to her classes. With a smirk, Tom approached Hermione in a decidedly predatory manner.

* * *

After a short, courteous meeting with Headmaster Dippet, Hermione found herself in the Great Hall much sooner than she liked. Professionally, Hermione stood before what would become her peers. Her eyes scanned the room, another war habit she acquired.

Hermione shook herself from her thoughts when she heard Dippet tell her to come forward and be Sorted. Hermione felt a bolt of pain. She sat down on the ramshackled stool and stared out at a sea of unfamiliar faces.

Hermione sat and the weight of the familiar Sorting Hat was put on her head.

 _Hello Hermione Granger. A little before your time, is it not?_ The Hat asked.

Hermione quickly recounted the situation to the Hat. It sifted through her memories, breezing past barriers that skilled Legilimencists couldn't break.

 _I'm sorry about the war. You have the chance to fix things, what will you do?_

Hermione considered. _I supposed you could put me in Gryffindor. Volde- Riddle will hate me immediately and I could kill him._

 _Tut-tut Hermione. I don't think you need to kill the future Dark Lord._

 _Then what do I do?_

 _Hmm, well, that is up to you. Let's just say for all of the nonsense Dumbledore enjoys sprouting, some parts are actually correct. Parts like the ability of love to change people._

 _No! I can't fall in love with Riddle. He's already killed people!_

 _Perhaps love is the wrong word. Let's just say you have his interest. If you show him your power, he will be interested in you and not world domination, or whatever that scheme of his is._

Hermione sighed, _Well, of course I'll take your advice. Now, what House am I in?_

 _Hmm, Miss Granger this is much trickier than when you were younger. You have been changed drastically by the war. In some ways, your prejudice clouds your judgment._

 _What prejudice?! I fought against-_

 _Miss Granger, you have become a different person. Surely you see that._ The Hat flipped through her memories of herself on the run with her best friends and the deaths she had witnessed.

The Hat continued, _Ponder my words. This time, there is no option. It is very clear your House. Protect yourself; if you need me, you know where to find me._

" _Slytherin!_ " The Sorting Hat roared. An uproarious applause rose from Hermione's new House.

Hermione felt her face drain of blood as she looked towards the House that was, for all intents and purposes, the opposite of her own. Listening to Dippet's ending speech, Hermione was grateful she was Head Girl so she didn't have to sleep in a den of snakes.

Numbly, Hermione wordlessly changed the color of her tie and insignia on her robes to match her new House. She walked mindlessly to her first class of the day, Arithmancy.

Hermione knock straight into a body on her way out of the Great Hall. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized it was Tom Riddle. No one else could be mistaken for his angelically pale skin and contrasting black hair and eyes.

"Hermione, this does seem to be becoming a habit." Tom's eye shone with amusement. He had a classic Slytherin smirk in place.

"My apologizes Riddle. I was just going to my first class." Hermione attempted to walk by him.

Tom simply turned heel and walked with her, his long legs easily keeping pace. "Well, this is your first day. Allow me to assist you to your classes, Hermione."

Hermione gulped and handed Tom her schedule. Tom quirked an eyebrow at her all NEWT schedule. "This is a very impressive schedule, on par with mine. In fact, we seem to share every class except for Transfigurations. Isn't that lovely?"

Hermione squeaked out, "Yes. Lovely. I would prefer to be called Laird."

Tom replied with an amused tone, "Hermione, I believe saving your life would put us on a first-name basis."

"Riddle, I said I would prefer to be called Laird," Hermione reiterated.

Tom apparently decided that he wasn't going to fight this battle. "Of course, Laird, anything the lady wants. But tell me just one thing, how have you been leading us to Professor Belby's classroom despite this being your third day?"

Hermione flushed. "I studied Hogwarts while I was at home. I had two friends at home who went here some time ago. They told me about it. They are a large reason why I am here," Hermione finished in a wistful tone, thinking about Harry and Ron.

* * *

Tom looked down on the woman he was walking with. She was a curious creature. Hermione, the name rolled off his tongue, didn't react at all to his ministrations, but blushed when he brought up her past. Intriguing.

Tom "accidentally" stepped closer to Hermione, but she kept their spacing even with the grace of a dancer. Hermione looked around interestedly, but not at Hogwarts, rather at the people. He supposed he couldn't fault her for that. Showing up as she did is bound to be overwhelming.

Finally, Tom and Hermione arrived at Arithmancy. Hermione took a seat next to Tom, the only one that was open. Hermione looked uncomfortable to be in such close proximity. Tom smirked, thinking his charm was beginning to work on her.

Tom reclined back in his chair and listened to Professor Belby lecture. Yesterday, the learned about derivatives to today it was integrals.

Belby asked, "Can anyone tell me equivalent names for an integral?"

Hermione surprised everyone by shooting her hand in the air, faster even than Tom. "Sir, integration is another part of speech. The word integral can be substituted for antiderivative. Antiderivative the more precise term that tells you how to find the integral, but many mathematicians use integral as to avoid confusion."

Belby sent Hermione a wide smile, "Ten points to Slytherin for the correct answer and another ten points for flawless reasoning. Well done Miss Laird."

Tom clenched his jaw and worked to control his anger. No one showed him up in class. Perhaps he was getting lazy because he never had any competition. Well he would show Hermione exactly how flawless he could be.

Throughout the day, Tom grew more frustrated. In Double Potions, Slughorn doted on Tom, like usual, but quickly realized what a _wonderful_ student Miss Laird was.

Tom was so distracted that Hermione had to stop him before he added the wrong ingredient into a potion and it exploded. Slughorn praised her quick thinking and gave Tom a disappointed glance.

Tom was pissed.

His entire day was screwed up because of Hermione. This made him so much more eager to figure out what made her so special.

During lunch and his free period, Tom plotted, as any Slytherin would, how to get back at Hermione. He couldn't sabotage her in class, because everyone knew she was an amazing student by now.

Tom recalled that for some reason Hermione seemed uncomfortable when he was close. Tom quickly decided on a course of action and sent a message out to his Knights via his second-in-command, Abraxas Malfoy. They were not to harm the girl, but they should make her life difficult.

Tom's plan in motion, he went back to his Head dorm. Tom smirked to himself and quickly finished his homework for the day.

Tom swiftly went down to the dungeons, to the Slytherin common room. He sat at a chair in a corner to observe the action that will occur. Now, all he had to do was wait for his brown-haired witch to appear.


	6. Tom's Horrible Day

**Very important author's not at the bottom!**

* * *

Hermione went to her first class in this new time, Arithmancy. It was one of her favorite subjects. She enjoyed the certainty of knowing she would always have a definite answer, nothing was left to chance. Unlike the situation she found herself in.

The Dark Lord was sitting next to her and she was sitting, talking about derivatives. She could feel Riddle glaring into the side of her face. Thankfully, the class was soon dismissed.

Hermione hurriedly walked to the dungeons for Double Potions. With ease, Riddle caught up and Hermione frowned. This time, he didn't attempt to make conversation, but rather tried to creep into her personal space.

Hermione resolutely kept up her fast pace and, a short while later, found herself in front of her Potions classroom. She opened the door and was quite surprised but what she found, or rather didn't find.

It was much more open and clean than Potions when Snape taught it. Everywhere had brightness about it. There was something else that Hermione couldn't quite put her finger on.

All of the sudden a pot-bellied man stepped in front of Hermione. She quickly recognized Horace Slughorn. Hermione couldn't believe she didn't realize Slughorn was the Potions Master during this time, seeing how he told Riddle about the Horcruxes.

Slughorn grabbed Hermione's hand in two of his sweaty ones and shook it vigorously. "Hello, hello Miss Laird. I'm Professor Slughorn, your Potions Master this year. It's an honor to meet you. You must be quite a witch to be Head Girl and in my own House as well."

Hermione put on a genuine smile; glad to see some things never change. "Professor, the pleasure is all mine. It is indeed an honor to meet the man who knows so many popular and noted wizards and witches." Hermione realized that many of the flat surfaces and most of the walls held wizard photos of Slughorn with his previous protégés.

Slughorn, still holding Hermione's hand, said, "Thank you Miss Laird. Some of my favorite students are having a gathering this Friday. I would love it if you could come."

Hermione thought quickly. Even if she didn't enjoy being in the Slug Club, it was still a good way to meet people, plus there was always great food.

Hermione smiled charmingly. "Of course, sir. It sounds like a fine way to meet my peers."

Slughorn looked slightly above Hermione, addressing Tom who had stood silently throughout their exchange. "Tom, I trust you can escort Miss Laird to our party."

Hermione turned and saw Tom's perfect appeasing smile. "I would love to Professor."

Slughorn clapped his hands together jovially. "Wonderful. Now let us get class started." He waved a hand and instructions to make the Polyjuice Potion appeared on the board.

"Class, this is your assignment. Since this is a difficult Potion, you will have the rest of class to brew it. Miss Laird would you please work with Mister Riddle?" Slughorn announced.

Hermione gracefully took a seat and began gathering ingredients from memory. She had made this many times to help out on her adventures with Harry and Ron. Hermione thought about the various times the potion had come in handy.

She could have easily finished the potion by herself, but then Riddle had to come screw everything up. Just as Hermione went to add the necessary powder, a hand appeared over her cauldron, about to drop in a crushed newt. Hermione moved quickly, slapping the hand back and grabbing the next before it touched the potion.

Hermione was furious. "Riddle! Why did you do that? I was preparing the Polyjuice just fine. You could have started an explosion!"

Riddle was mad, as well. "Maybe if you didn't act like a know-it-all and do all of the work, I wouldn't feel bored enough to skip a step."

"Don't blame this on me! I stopped you from screwing up our potion."

Slughorn came up and eased the tension. "Now, as two of my best students, Mister Riddle and Miss Laird, you should be setting the example for others. Your behavior has been unacceptable. Mister Riddle, ten points from Slytherin for your careless actions. Miss Laird, thirty point to Slytherin for your quick actions and, what appears to be until the final step, a perfect Polyjuice Potion. You are both dismissed."

Slughorn turned away to try to help scavenge some ruined potion. Hermione collected her belongings and burst from the room. Hermione moved swiftly to her favorite place in Hogwarts, the library.

On her way there, a door appeared at her side. Hermione turned towards it curiously and let out a sigh as she entered the Room of Requirement.

She had never seen it like this. It looked very similar to the main library she had been heading to. Directly in front of Hermione was a desk with a lamp. A book sat in the middle, opened to a page.

 _Impossible_ , Hermione thought. It was less of a book and more of a journal. Hermione's heart skipped a beat as she recognized the messy scrawl of her best friend's handwriting. _His handwriting is as horrible as his hair_ , Hermione thought wistfully.

Carefully turning the "Property Of" page, Hermione felt a pang of sadness when she realized the journal was empty. Hermione leaned forward and threw her arms up in an exasperated motion. As she threw her elbows out, her right one hit an inkwell and her left brushed the feather end of a quill.

Not daring to breathe, Hermione wrote in her flowing script a tentative, _Hello_.

 _Hello Hermione_. The reply was almost instantaneous and still in Harry's sloppy scrawl.

 _Harry? Is it you?_ Hermione could barely breathe as her heart fluttered in her chest.

 _Of course it is. Are you telling me that the brightest witch of her age couldn't figure out that this book serves as a temporal rift between two times, your and mine, that allows us to communicate across the fabric of space time?_

 _I'm not sure who is writing, but it certainly isn't Harry Potter._

 _Do you think I actually knew half of the words I just wrote down? Dumbledore said to tell you that and you would get it._

Hermione let out a peal of laughter at that. _Now_ that's _the Harry I know. How are you and Ron and Ginny? What about the war? I'm sorry I left but now I'm stuck in the 40's!_ Hermione bit her quill's tip nervously as she awaited a reply.

 _I can't tell you a lot because I don't know a lot. Ron and I are still hiding from Voldemort, but we have figured out a way to communicate with Dumbledore through Ron's Deluminator. Everyone is fine, or rather, no worse than when you left. The way appears to be at a stalemate. Death Eaters maintain control of the Ministry, but they appear to have stopped hunting muggleborns and half-bloods. Dumbledore says it's because of you. I don't mean to put this on you, but he said they you would stop the war or make it worse._

Letting this information digest, Hermione thoughtfully penned a response. _Does Dumbledore know if I can come back, to be with you? I've meet Dumbledore in my time, so he must know._

 _Unfortunately, Dumbledore is being very tight-lipped, more so than usual. He said that it comes down to what you can do. I heard about Voldemort. Doesn't it make you sick to think he was once a student, like you and me?_

Hermione contemplated this. _His attitude towards me is despicable, but I'm not sure if it's because I'm new or if he realizes I'm a threat._ Hermione felt a cold sweat break out as she remembered Voldemort and Dumbledore's duel at the Ministry not so long ago. _If he has half the skill he did against Dumbledore, I'm not sure I can stop him. Then you add in his Death Eaters, I'm not sure how I'll survive this._

 _Hermione, no one is telling you to try to kill Voldemort and his death squad. What if Dumbledore is right and all he needs is a friend?_

Hermione scoffed at the notion. _Harry, this is the Dark Lord, not some jock with misunderstood feelings._

Hermione could almost hear Harry sigh. _Fine, do whatever you want. I just don't want you to get hurt. Just promise me that you'll do whatever it takes to get back here. I need my best friend._

 _Of course I will. I have to go now._ Hermione's eyes prickled with tears as she realized that Harry would rather her befriend his greatest enemy than have her get hurt. Feeling refreshed and revitalized, Hermione pushed herself away from the desk with a newfound purpose.

Checking outside, Hermione realized with a jolt that it was almost curfew. Well, she had a little over an hour, but she never wanted to risk getting caught by the groundsmaster.

She walked to the portrait of the Founders, which was the door to the Head dorms. As soon as she got there, she realized that she didn't know the password. With a huff, Hermione walked to the dungeons.

Some random third years were there and they opened the door with the password _todsunde_. Hermione entered confidently afterwards. It was almost comical, Hermione thought, how conversation abruptly halted when she entered the common rooms.

Hermione scanned the room. She walked over to a pair of seventh years on a sofa to see if they would know where Riddle was. Hermione walked towards the duo and conversation burst out of its floodgates. Hermione worked to keep the smirk off her face. "Hello, I'm Hermione Laird and I was wonder-"

Hermione tripped as if she had received a push from behind. Unknown to her, Riddle silently sent a jinx her way. Hermione stumbled into the boy that rose to greet her. With skilled ease, he caught her, "Please, leap into my arms, princess. Your knight in shining armor is Samuel Avery," he finished with a wink.

The girl next to him scoffed, "If you're a knight, I'm the bloody Queen of England. Annie Greengrass, by the way. How do you do?" Annie gestured and the trio sat, Sam and Annie on the couch and Hermione sitting across.

"Hermione Laird, is it?" Sam asked. Hermione nodded. "That isn't a Wizarding name."

The mere statement made Hermione gulp with the startling realization that blood prejudice ran extremely high, especially in Slytherin. Sticking to her story, Hermione said, "I'm a half blood. My father was the Muggle, obviously."

Samuel sat with a straight spine. He had short, spikey brown hair and a healthy tan. He was well built, likely on the Quidditch team. Hermione would have thought him attractive, if not for the love his eyes held for Annie.

Annie was his opposite. Everything about her portrayed warmth despite her pale skin. She was petite and her blond hair was styled so it had sleek waves. Her legs were crossed and her hands were laced in her lap, the epitome of a proper lady. They were truly a knight and his lady.

Samuel nodded with easy acceptance. Annie grinned cheerfully and resumed the conversation. "I'm in your Potions class. I believe we also have Astronomy and Transfigurations together, if the rumors of you being in all NEWT classes is true?"

Hermione grinned gratefully at her new friend. "Yes, I'm sorry I didn't get your name earlier. I made a, uh, rather hasty exit from Potions today."

"Not a problem." Annie rose to her feet and Hermione followed. "I know you are Head Girl, but I wanted to show you to my room, if you ever wanted to chat."

"Thank you, I would like that a lot," Hermione said as she stood. As Annie stood, it was as graceful as water flowing down a stream. In comparison, Hermione felt like a gangly teen going through puberty a second time.

As Annie began to walk away, Samuel caught her arm and had a hushed conversation. In a few seconds, it was over. Annie's face held the typical Slytherin smirk, but Samuel glowered and pouted.

Gleefully, Annie took Hermione's hand and lead up the stairs to the girls' dormitory.

"Fun fact, if a boy tries to climb up the stairs, it turns into a slide and snake come out," Annie said pleasantly. Hermione chuckled as the mental image contrasted with Annie's innocent tone.

Annie stepped into her room with a loud, "Ta da! How do you like it?" Hermione was stunned. The room held two queen-sized beds with a soft emerald blanket on top. A window in the wall showed the underwater lake in all of its beauty. Seaweed swayed in a calming motion.

Annie sat Hermione down and dragged a chair over so they could talk. When Annie casted locking and silencing spells, Hermione began to worry. Hermione had no doubt she would win in a duel, but she didn't want to lose her first friend.

Annie became abruptly serious. "What did you do to piss off Riddle?"

Hermione was taken aback. "What?"

"Riddle. He cast a spell behind your back to trip you just now in the common room. He's the only one who could do a spell like that wordlessly and avoid detection."

Hermione sat in stunned silence.

Annie rolled her eyes. "Come on, Hermione, I'm Slytherin, not stupid."

Hermione gulped. "I don't know. I don't think I pissed him off. Why would he do that?" Hermione's thoughts raced. What if Riddle already knew who she was and what she was planning on doing?

Annie leaned back. "I can tell you why." Annie took Hermione's silence and permission to continue speaking. "You're smart. No one bests Riddle, and you've been doing it all day. He's getting back at you; it's what Slytherins do."

Hermione paled. "Oh Merlin, what do I do?"

Annie grabbed Hermione's hands in an attempt to comfort her. "I'll tell you. You head out of my room. Keep your head up and your nose higher, sorry but you have to. You sashay," Hermione giggled, "Hey, I'm dead serious. You sashay up to Tom and go, want to go? Then you don't look back and you don't slow down, just walk to your dorms."

Hermione was laughing at the ludicrous sounding plan, but she didn't have a better one. "Ok, I think I can do that. Oh, the door is the portrait of the Founders."

Annie nodded, "Ok, I know where that is."

"I'll get the password tonight and you can meet me outside at quarter to seven? Then we can go to breakfast."

Annie released Hermione's hands and stood. The pair exchanged a smile. They walked to the stairs that lead down to the common room. Annie gave Hermione one last comforting smile, and then they descended the stairs.

Hermione, as per the plan, walked to Riddle. She felt like she was swinging her hips outrageously, but it was normal to other girls. She sauntered up to Riddle and said in a low, sultry voice, "Want to get out of here?"

Without waiting for a response, Hermione turned and strutted away. She should win an Oscar for her performance and a place on _America's Next Top Model_ with her strut.

As Hermione left the common room, she heard Riddle hastily follow with a murmured, "What the hell?"

The short walk back to their Head dorms was over far sooner than Hermione wanted it to be. Hermione had no further plan and it worried her. She merely waited in front of the portrait and tapped her foot impatiently.

"Pureblood," Riddle said as the portrait swung open.

Hermione entered, chuckling to herself. She couldn't believe the number of heads she turned as she marched sassily through the Slytherin common room. Riddle followed angrily.

As soon as the door closed, Riddle snapped, "What are you laughing for, Laird?" His dark eyes flashed dangerously. He yanked his tie loose in one aggressive motion and ran a hand through his combed hair.

Hermione allowed her laugh to swell into a full rumble that originated deep in her chest. "I'm only laughing at how bigoted our password is," Hermione covered up.

Hermione collapsed, fluttering her eyes shut, on one of the big, fluffy chairs in their shared common room, not quite ready to retire for the night. As she reclined, Riddle was over her immediately. His hands were braced on either armrest, trapping Hermione in. Hermione felt the chair squeak again and opened her eyes, heart nearly stopping in fear as she saw a furious Tom Riddle standing over her.

Hermione internally summoned her Gryffindor courage and refused to be intimidated. Without fear, she leveled her gaze into the eyes of the man who would attempt to kill her best friend many times.

"What do you mean 'bigoted'?" Tom spat, his dark eyes flashed. His hair fell carelessly over his forehead, giving Hermione the inexplicable urge to finger comb it back, an urge she quickly tampered.

Hermione let out a very Slytherin smirk. She relaxed into the oversized chair, but inwardly, Hermione was as tense as a wound up spring. "Bigoted, Riddle, because we're both half-bloods, or is that some kind of secret?"

"How the hell do you know that?" Riddle demanded. He leaned in further and locked eyes with Hermione as if she was his prey. Hermione felt Riddle being to pry into the walls of her mind. Solidly, she clamped down on her thoughts but she couldn't stop her surprise at him knowing such an advanced form of Legilimency so early.

Hermione thought fast to avoid giving away her other knowledge. "Isn't it obvious? It takes one to know one. We both achieve at very high levels because we know about the Muggle world, intimately, and have no desire to go back. Plus, the mudbloods are too dull to appreciate their magic." The last part left a bitter taste in Hermione's mouth, but it was necessary to keep up her cover.

Riddle seemed to accept her words. He leaned in; black eyes locked with brown ones. Mentally, worked his way around Hermione's mental barriers. Hermione wanted to retaliate, but she knew that in doing that, she would leave her mind open. Plus, Hermione wasn't sure if she could handle the crazy bag of cats that is the Dark Lord's mind.

Riddle stood up to his full height. At barely five foot four inches, Hermione was immediately spiteful of anyone who used their height to intimidate others. Aside from cheating and wet socks, it was Hermione's biggest pet peeve.

With a withering look, Hermione glared up at Riddle. "What do you want now?"

Riddle sent back an equally hostile glare. "Well then, Hermione, what should the password be, O Genius of Hogwarts?"

Hermione contemplated for a moment. "Occhiolism."

Riddle rolled his eyes. "What does that mean?"

Hermione stood smoothly and breezed by Riddle. "If you care so much, why don't you figure it out?" As her statement finished, Hermione shut her bedroom door behind her and immediately started casting locking charms and wards that wouldn't be created for another twenty years. No sooner had she finished, did she hear her door shake and a quiet curse escape from Riddle.

Smirking, Hermione plopped onto her bed and fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

Tom never remembered feeling like this. He always had his emotions under control; the emotional outbursts he had been having were unprecedented. He hated how much he felt and he hated what caused them, Hermione Laird.

He slammed the door to his room after his futile attempt to gain access to Hermione's bedroom. As much as he hated to admit it, he was impressed. He didn't know anyone, regardless of blood or gender, that could make their room that impenetrable so fast.

Tom ripped off his outer robes and clothes, stripping down to his black silk boxers. In an atypical display of behavior, he left his clothes flung across the room. It was incongruous with the militant order of the rest of his belongings.

With a groan, Tom recounted his failure of a day. He was outmaneuvered in every class. It was so bad that even in classes where everyone slept, people stayed alert to watch Hermione beat him. By the end of the day, there were whispers of a new leader in Slytherin.

Tom's genius plan to get Hermione to make a fool of herself backfired. When she walked out of Slytherin, she turned the head of every male, and even some females. He had followed like a bumbling puppy.

The worst pat was that it seemed like she wasn't even putting in effort in her classes. In fact, if Tom didn't know better, he would think she was bored with the lessons, as if she was used to academics that were much more rigorous.

The ultimate insult came minutes ago when Tom pinned her down in the chair. Unfazed, she stuck her chin up and saw through his façade of brilliance. She called him on his bullshit and he didn't know how react.

Tom was well aware of his good looks. He knew that most girls, if within a six-foot radius of him, melted when they made eye contact. Yet, the infuriating Hermione didn't melt, or even warm up to him. Instead, she was stoic and he thought he detected a glimmer of disgust in the depths of her molten eyes.

Regardless, Tom knew that he would have to gain the power back. Once he did, everything would return to as it should be, with himself on top.

* * *

 _ **Todsunde**_ **is German for deadly sin. So, when Hermione enters the Slytherin dungeons for the first time, it is like she has committed a deadly sin to her former Gryffindor self. I'll explain the password Hermione made up later.**

 **I'm sorry for not updating sooner; I had a very busy summer.**

 **This is Chapter 6 updated. I'm going to be changing my writing sytle and plot to involve more action scenes. It will still be a Tomione, but with more blood and guts. I'm also slightly altering the relationship Hermione and Tom will have early on. I hope these changes will let me stick to Rowling's characterization more.**

 **Please leave questions, comments, concerns, queries, or quandaries!**


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